


Harvest

by rufus



Series: Shenanigans (April 1975) [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: wellymuck, F/M, M/M, Wellymuck 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufus/pseuds/rufus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a Harvest Show, at which there is a War Wing demo, Tug of War, and Terrible Misunderstandings, and then Sirius fixes it, and then the Longbottoms and the Lovegoods get married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harvest

**Author's Note:**

> The second and last encore to Shenanigans/April 1975!
> 
> Prompt from paranoidsistah: Remus and Sirius on their 3 month anniversary and the end to their "courting" (maybe some angst around whether it will end or continue. A prank would be nice and of course some cameos of Alice and Frank and perhaps Soleil, who is a great OFC btw.,

_Left, then right, then left again_ , Remus thought, trying to think about his feet and the music and not the face of the girl in front of him. Or her bosom, which had started out milky-pale but was now growing somewhat – _furry_. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but somehow he had gotten off the ferry in Plymouth just after dawn and then – something had happened and he had ended up in a very large room with many guttering sconces and lots of people wearing funny clothes. 

He had spent what felt like several panicked hours searching for his parents, and then just when he thought he saw his mum, someone had grabbed him by the arm and shoved him onto the dance floor with the girl, who had dark hair and grey eyes, like Sirius, and kept trying to snog him. He raised his arm to let her twirl, rocking back as her skirts collided with his shins, and then she was back again, her button nose now much blacker than it had started out – she leaned in for a kiss and before he could dodge her – whiskers? – were tickling his nose and he sneezed – and then he was somewhere else – somewhere familiar, dimly lit and a little chilly – flat on his back on – well, it wasn't a bed – but there was a blanket. And there was a blue-eyed Siamese cat with a bottle-brush tail perched on his chest, licking it's paw and purring loudly.

 _Awake_ , he thought, listening to his heart pound, _you're awake, Remus, you gormless idiot, and you are laying on James' mum's second best sofa, in the Winter Parlour_. He exhaled, and realized he could hear voice drifting in from the other room – his parents and James' were having breakfast, if the snippets of conversation were anything to go by. He could also hear someone – probably James – walking around above his head, as well as a few suspicious thumps and crashes that suggested Sirius was likely to be awake as well. 

"You must be Princess FiFi," he said to the cat, who stretched out the paw it had been licking and patted his face gently. "Sirius told me about you," he added, and got a slow blink in response. "He doesn't like dead mice in his bed, you know, he was very distressed when you did that –" 

"You'd be distressed too, if you woke up and there were dead baby mice on _your_ pillow," Sirius said, softly, from quite nearby, and before Remus had time to react properly he was _there_ , crouched by the side of the sofa in his nightshirt, his lips brushing quickly over Remus' mouth, his finger running over Remus' face and smoothing his hair back, his grey eyes dark with what appeared to be worry. Princess FiFi yowled once and then jumped down and trotted towards the kitchen, tail held high. 

Remus stared at him, a little confused, trying to reconcile the Sirius he had been writing to for most of the summer with the Sirius in front of him. The one he was looking at had misplaced his sleek ponytail and had had to make do with messy, sleep-rumpled hair instead, and was sorely lacking in ruffled poetic shirts. He put out one hand and made an awkward attempt at touching Sirius' nose, which was slightly longer than it ought to have been.

"Mmph," Sirius said, his eyes crossing briefly, and then Remus' hand was trapped, imprisoned between cool linen and warm calloused fingers. "Your mum said you had a rough journey," Sirius added, sitting back and biting his lip, his other hand coming to rest on Remus' stomach. "We're meant to go to the Harvest Show today but if you aren't well we can stay home – "

"Sirius – I'm fine," Remus managed, and sat up, though it did make the room spin unpleasantly. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths. "We had to sit above the engine all night, which vibrates a good deal and – well – dodgy foreign food, you know," he said, trying to summon a smile and Sirius nodded, his face relaxing slightly. Remus felt a wave of something – affection? amusement? – roll through him, and reached out with his free hand to scratch Sirius behind the ears. _I've missed you_ , he thought, as Sirius made a happy noise at his knees. He leaned forward, letting his hand slide down Sirius' neck, and was rewarded with a lap full of Sirius, as warm and squashy and real as he remembered. He dropped an arm around Sirius' waist and squeezed him, as Sirius hummed and nuzzled his neck. 

_Mmm_ , Remus thought, letting his head fall back against the sofa, closing his eyes and shivering a little as Sirius worked his way up to the edge of his jaw and then onto his face. There were a few moments of warm, wet mouth and then Sirius pulled back, and Remus felt a hand settle against the base of his neck. 

"Hmm?" he said, turning to face Sirius, but Sirius just ducked his head and nuzzled him again. 

"What is it, Sirius?" he asked, and Sirius shook his head, sending tendrils of black hair up to hit Remus in the nose.

"Talk about it later, yeah?" Sirius said, into his shoulder, and Remus nodded, only half-wondering how they were going to get away from James and Peter long enough to have a proper conversation.

"Anyway, James said there's meant to be a War Wing demonstration, at the Show this year," Sirius said, after a while, pulling away and standing up. "Come on – do you want breakfast? – the others are upstairs – " he added, pulling Remus off the couch and dragging him out of the room, calling for James and Peter as they went.

**

"Hands on the trainer, boys!" Mr. Potter said, as Remus shoved in between Sirius and Peter to settle his hand on the Portkey. He could hear Peter grumbling about _wiggling things_ under his breath as the scenery began to blur. He felt his stomach lurch, and was suddenly pleased he hadn't had that much at breakfast, despite his mum's fussing and Sirius' nagging. 

It had been a bit of a long morning – first James had worked himself up into a state trying to find his summer robes (they were hanging in the wardrobe in his room), then Princess FiFi had deposited another dead mouse in Sirius' boot (there had been a lot of screaming), and finally his mother had spent twenty minutes explaining to Mrs. Potter which potions he was to take and when, as if he were five and not fifteen and able to manage for himself. He had heaved a quiet sigh of relief when his father had thanked the Potters for breakfast and his parents had _finally_ stepped into the Floo. Then Mrs. Potter had shooed the Marauders and Mr. Potter into the back garden and told them not to come back until dinner time, and to please not make themselves ill with show food.

"Here we are!" Mr. Potter said, the world lurched briefly, and then Remus found himself sprawled out on the ground, looking up at a thin canopy of leaves. 

"Up!" James said, leaning over him, glasses sliding down his nose, and then Peter pulled him to his feet, grinning broadly. Sirius was up next, shaking himself –Like a dog – Remus thought, and had to stifle a giggle. Then Sirius flashed him a look from beneath his fringe that made his stomach wobble and he had to stare at the ground so James didn't see anything in his face.

"Right," Mr. Potter said, leaning over to pick up a twig, "the Harvest Show is just through the woods – there's a path, just there, you can see it – and mind you don't stray off it, the ground is boggy in these parts, and careless wizards and witches have come to grief –"

"Come to grief?" Peter said, sounding bemused, and Remus saw Mr. Potter's normally placid brown eyes flash irritation.

"Been swallowed whole, Mr. Pettigrew," he said, sounding a bit like Dumbledore, and Peter made a squeaking noise. "Anyway, lads, it's through there and down the hill, you'll see the marquee tents as you get closer. Mrs. Potter's given me a shopping list – quite long, as you can see," he said, holding up a thick roll of parchment, "so I'll wobble on by m'self. The War Wing fly-over is in four hours, and you'll get the best view from between the flower stalls," he added, and waved his wand at the twig, and it turned into a thick walking staff. He set the tip down in the leaf litter and smiled, the ends of his white beard twitching with the movement of his head as he moved towards the head of the trail. 

"I'll meet you by the smithies when the War Wing packs up," he said, as Sirius and Peter walked past him, to stand in the center of the trail, "and there's a feast on at ours tonight, so don't eat too much cake. Oh, and James –" he said, as his son passed him, "be good, now." 

"Yes, Dad," James said, absently, squinting down the path, and Remus heard Mr. Potter chuckling as they walked away, James in the lead. 

**

"Hmm," James said, turning the map again. "Most of what we want is – over here, I think," he added, waving his left hand. "Here, Remus, you're good at maps, have a go –"

"Niffler races!" Peter said, from behind them, and James made an irritated noise as he darted off into the crowd. Remus glanced up from the map – the ink was slightly smudged from where James had spilled a butterbeer on it – and saw Sirius shifting from one foot to the other and clearly itching to follow Peter.

"Go on, we'll catch you up," he said, and Sirius gave him a broad grin and vanished into an open space between a small witch wearing what appeared to be a flamingo on her head and an equally tiny wizard wearing a voluminous floral muumuu.

"Bloody hell, Moony, now we'll have to catch both of them –" James huffed, and Remus turned the map again.

"Won't go far," Remus murmured, and folded the map in half, wishing for a "You are Here" marker, and perhaps a few less areas with runny smudges for labels. "How is he, then?"

"How is who – oh," James said, and let out a tiny sigh. "Bit peaky early on – Romania was a disaster, apparently, didn't get to see a single dragon – but he seems right enough now, I reckon. Mum's been stuffing him full of bacon and treacle tart so he's a bit less, you know, bony. Been a bit weird recently, though – more than usual, I mean," he added, and Remus took a moment to clear his expression before he looked up.

"Weird how?" he asked, and James screwed up his face in concentration.

"I don't know – just a bit off," he said, crossing his arms. "Distracted, I reckon. And we did have the most bizarre conversation yesterday about fancying people, before Peter came through." James ran a hand through his hair and turned to squint at the crowd, while Remus raised the map and focused on breathing. Perhaps _this_ was what Sirius had wanted to talk about.

"Oh?" he managed, and James grunted. "Did he, er, mention anyone in particular?"

"No," James said, raising himself onto his toes, "but I reckon he's been writing to her since he got here – every day, like, and he sends her things," he added.

 _No he doesn't—didn't_ , Remus thought, as a ball of ice formed in his stomach. _He didn't send me anything at all._

"Not that it worked, she sent it all back," James added, scanning the crowd. "He was a bit put out, of course, but I told him to keep at it, Lily does that to me as well. And at least his girl _answers_ his letters, right?"

"Mmm," Remus said, feeling a little dizzy. _I knew it_ , he thought, carefully not looking at James, _I knew it wasn't going to work. He's found some girl somewhere and he's going to go off with her and I – and I –_ he stopped, unable to finish the thought, and swallowed carefully. _Could've told me_ , he thought, as irritation replaced shock, _could've just said, and not bloody had a kiss and a cuddle like nothing was wrong, the wanker_. 

"Did he say anything else?" he said, pleased that his voice was steady, turning the map again. The Show was large, but not very spread out. The map showed a number of crooked paths between fuzzy black squares that Remus supposed were meant to represent different pavilions and gaming grounds. There was a large empty oval in the center surrounded by what appeared to be drawings of flowers – that was probably where the War Wing would be flying later.

"Mm, went on for quite a while about what if you fancied someone and it was awkward, might upset people –" James began, and Remus' irritation blossomed into anger. _I'll give him bloody awkward_ , Remus thought, ignoring the small voice at the back of his mind that was reminding him he had, after all, agreed to a _three month trial period_. 

_And if it doesn't work, no hard feelings_ , Sirius had said, in the cupboard. Remus pressed his lips together and gave himself a shake. There had been a lot of kissing and some –okay, a lot – of letters that were now excruciatingly embarrassing to even think of, and suddenly his stomach hurt so much, he almost wanted to crouch down and curl around himself, but he knew he wasn't _really_ ill. _Don't ruin James' day by being in a strop_ , he scolded himself. 

"What was the first thing we wanted to see, again?" he asked, turning the map one more time.

"Duelling demonstration," James said, absently, turning back to face Remus. "And then niffler races, which they've done already, now, and then tug-of-war – here let me see that again – right," he added, tapping the parchment with his finger, "the Wasps and the Kestrels are playing an exhibition game here next to the – what does that say, Moony?"

"Axe racing," Remus said, quietly, and handed the map back to James. "I'll just go and fetch them, will I?"

"Mmm," James said, frowning at the map, and Remus crossed his arms over his chest so James wouldn't see his hands were shaking, and went off in search of Sirius and Peter.

**

"HANDS ON THE ROPE!" said the wizard in the black and white striped robe, and Remus knelt down and closed his fingers around the rough hemp, some part of his brain registering that he was probably going to tear his hands up, doing this without gloves. _Oh well_ , he thought, and almost smiled. After extracting Sirius and Peter from the niffler pits he had taken the Show map from James and settled down to bobbing serenely in their collective wake, holding bags of sweets, James' glasses and the occasional turkey leg when necessary, all the while concentrating on keeping a blank but yet vaguely pleasant expression on his face. 

_Talk about it later_ , Sirius had said, and now that he knew what they would be talking _about_ , part of him wanted to grab Sirius by the collar and haul him off to demand he explain himself _right away_ , and part of him just wanted to skip the discussion and forget anything ever happened, to finally Obliviate himself (and Sirius as well, actually) as he had originally planned three months earlier, and just – just – be as they had been, before the potion, before Camellia, before the cupboard –best friends and Marauders. Sirius could sleep innocently at the foot of his bed and he would go back to finding girls pleasant but sort of dull, and not noticing boys at all – and it would all be so much less _complicated_. 

_Just kissing_ , he thought, watching Peter rub his hands on his robes, muttering that that last turkey leg had been a mistake, his hands were too greasy. _Just kissing, and who takes that seriously?_ he told himself, and wished he believed it. 

"G'luck, Moony!" someone shouted, and he looked up to see James and Sirius were grinning at him, the sun glinting off of James' glasses and Sirius' hair. Sirius had been eating something that involved a great deal of powdered sugar; there was a smudge of it across one of his cheekbones, and he now he was licking it off his fingers in a way that made Remus feel both extremely aroused and extremely ill. 

"Ready," said the referee, and Remus stood up, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

" _Pull_ ," roared the anchor, an enormous Hufflepuff 7th year, as soon as the referee blew the whistle, and Remus fixed his gaze at the back of Peter's head, turned into the rope, and hauled for all he was worth, smiling faintly as James and Sirius went skidding forward into the muddy ditch between the two teams.

**

"LADIES and GENTLEMEN, WITCHES and WIZARDS, I'm Ashompus Jones from the Wizarding Wireless Network, and it's my pleasure to present to you – the one, the only, the victors of the Battle of Britain – the WAR WING!" the announcer said, and made a broad swishing movement with his wand that caused the purple curtain behind him to disappear. There was a brief pause while he hopped off the dias, followed by a faint _whomp_ as the Wing surged forward in a tight arrow formation, flying low over the parade ground, their black cloaks streaming out behind them.

They came to a stop about half-way down the field; the rider at the point of the arrow punched the air with his wand hand and the Wing rose as one, to hover at roof-level. Remus heard James inhale sharply behind him and tightened his hold on the fence, nudging aside an inquisitive daisy with his elbow. They had squeezed in to a particularly mucky area between two flower stalls without a lot of difficulty, mainly because it stank of thestral manure and James and Sirius were covered in dried mud, tufts of hay and smelled suspiciously swampy, and nobody else wanted to stand anywhere near them.

"Oi, Moony, Peter, budge up," James said, as the squadron leader's hand dropped to the left and the Wing banked and swirled in a graceful figure-eight, firing a barrage of spells into the empty air. 

"Fuck off, we were here first," Peter said, mildly, and took another lick of his ice-cream cone. James made an annoyed noise, grabbed hold of Peter's robes and yanked him aside. While Peter spluttered and two nearby witches tut-tutted, the Wing split into two equal columns and glided off to opposing corners of the pitch. Someone blew a whistle, and the columns surged forward in a mock-charge just as Remus felt something suspiciously warm, heavy and familiar settle against his back. 

"Get _off_ ," he muttered, and twitched his shoulders, but Sirius (as usual) ignored him, and, if anything, nestled closer. 

"'sa matter, Moony?" Sirius whispered, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. "You all right, mate?" Remus took a deep breath and turned his head enough to glare at Sirius.

" _Off_ ," he growled, and Sirius backed away, one hand twisting in his robes. Remus saw a hurt look skim across his features and suppressed the urge to apologize. _Arsehole_ , he thought, and turned back to watch the two columns of flyers reform and roll through another figure-eight. 

**

"I bloody hate Portkeys," Peter said, and Remus heard a faint grunt of effort as he hauled himself to his feet. He rolled over onto his side and pulled his knees up, inhaling the smell of warm grass, and tried to think of pleasant things. It seemed the force of impact had dislodged the anger that had sustained him all day, and replaced it with a dull, miserable ache. 

_What did you think was going to happen?_ he asked himself, watching Peter brush grass off his arse, _you're a werewolf, Remus, you're lucky the humans feed you and let you sleep inside, never mind anything else. And Sirius is Witch Weekly's #2 Eligible Bachelor for the month of August, he can have anyone he likes. And soppy letters or not, who he likes isn't you. So get up, you lazy creature, and get over it. Don't ruin everyone's holiday with sulking._

"All right, mate?" Sirius said, crouching down beside him, and resting a hand on his ribs. Remus jerked away and stood up, staring the ground until he felt his expression clear.

"Look –" Sirius began, and Remus felt a hand settle on his arm. "Will you – will you just _talk_ to me," he said, and Remus spun around. 

"What is there to say, Sirius?" he hissed, yanking his arm away, ignoring the hurt and confusion in Sirius' face. Part of him wanted to scream at him, and devil take the consequences, and part of him just wanted to hide. 

"Come on, lads, don't want to keep the women waiting," Mr. Potter said, and moved off towards the house, James and Peter on his heels. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and followed them, Sirius at his heels, cursing under his breath. As they walked past the duck pond and over the top of a low hill to cross the back garden, Remus noticed that the House Elves had been hard at work while they were away. There were made two long lines of stacked logs down the center of the garden, and two long tables had appeared, one on either side of the lines of wood, and the garden gate had been changed from wrought iron to heavy oak.

"Elizabeth!" Mr. Potter called out, once they were at the house, pushing the heavy wooden door open with his staff. "Elizabeth, we're come home from adventuring, sore footed and empty-bellied –" he continued, as they made their way towards the kitchen, walking through the skylit Summer Parlour, James unbuttoning his robes as they walked.

"What's that, Henry?" she answered him, her voice coming from the general direction of the kitchen, muffled slightly by the stone walls. Mr. Potter murmured something in Latin and the door swung wide, revealing two house elves hovering over a bubbling cauldron, Mrs. Potter, who was covered in flour, and Alice Prewitt and Soleil McFarland sitting at a table covered in cornhusks and bits of brightly coloured ribbon.

"James Henry Potter, what _have_ you been doing?" Mrs. Potter said, catching sight of her son. Remus sat down at the table next to Soleil and picked up a piece of cornhusk, abruptly aware that the kitchen was warm and smelled of fresh-baked bread, and he was very hungry. 

"Here, Remus, like this," she said, and picked up a corn husk and length of ribbon, and made something that looked doll-like with a few graceful movements of her hands.

"Tug-of-war, Mum," James said, on the other side of the room, rotating slowly while his mother waved her wand over him. "And then the dunking tank," he added, and Remus thought he heard Sirius make a small irritated noise.

"I see," she said. "Right, Sirius, your turn now," she continued, and there was a long pause. "There, that's the worst of it – now, both of you, upstairs for a quick wash, and then it's down to the barn – no lip, young man, there's good deal to be done before the guests get here," she added, and James made a sulky noise. 

"Shoo," she said, and they left, James wearing a put-upon expression. "Peter, love, you can go straight down – Frank Longbottom is there already, he'll tell you what to do," she added, and Remus heard Peter move off with a muted sigh.

"Henry – if you could check the wards and make sure the Apparition points are clear, please," she said, and Mr. Potter saluted her with his stick and walked off towards the front of the house. "And Remus – oh, it's time for your potion, isn't it, now where did I leave it," she said, feeling in the pockets of her apron.

"It's all right, I can miss it," he said, wishing he could fall through the floor. _Isn't going to work anyway_ , he thought, and rubbed at his eyes. He was pants at potions but even _he_ knew stinging nettles and fuzzy pussywillow catkins cancelled each other out when used together. He had said as much, as well, but his father had whispered _Just try it, it might work_ , and his mother had given him a pleading look, and then he didn't argue any more.

"Ah, here it is," she said, holding up a small green vial with a broad smile. She unstoppered it and handed it to him, and he drank it quickly, clenching his teeth against the vile taste and the urge to spew. Mrs. Potter took the vial back and rested the back of one soft, slightly floury hand against his forehead and pursed her lips. He looked up at her, and could see a bit of James in the line of her cheekbones and the curve of her lip. 

"Warm," she said, tucking a wisp of white hair behind her ear, "and you look a bit peaky. I'll make you a cup of tea, will I? And then maybe you can have a bit of a lie down before dinner, hmm?" she said, but didn't wait for an answer. _I am not an **invalid**_ , he thought, curling over his corn husk, aware he was blushing.

"Thank you," he said, when she set the tea down in front of him with a soft thump. "I'll stay here, I'm fine, really," he added, and saw her exchange a look with Alice that made him feel even worse.

"Dovecote," she said, moving towards the fireplace, and one of the House Elves turned around. "When that's finished, you and Hayrack can lay the tables," she said, and the elf nodded, it's ears rolling in and out twice. She waved her wand over herself, and the flour disappeared.

"Right, then, I'm off to sort out the Spring Parlour, I'll leave you lot to it," she said, mostly to Alice, and slipped out, pulling the door shut behind her. Remus tried to drink his tea, but it was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat, and eventually he gave up made a little pile of cornhusks. Soleil pushed a small pile of ribbon at him and he settled down to work, and to planning what he was going to Sirius when he finally did get him alone. He wasn't exactly sure how to start that conversation, either. _Anything but "How could you do this to me?"_ he thought, and put the finished doll aside and picked up a new cornhusk. He was vaguely aware of Soleil and Alice having a conversation, something about _bath towels_ and _room to stir a proper cauldron_ , and then Soleil caught one of his wrists between her narrow fingers and pinned it to the table.

"What's he done, then?" she asked, and Remus blinked at her, confused ( _how did she know? what does she know?_ ) and horrified ( _have I been talking out loud this whole time?_ ), and he heard Alice make a clucking noise.

"Honestly, Soleil," she murmured, and flipped a corn husk over her hand. Remus tried to summon a smile and failed; Soleil squeezed his wrist with one hand and waved her wand at his tea with the other. He saw steam start to rise up and hoped she hadn't – _added_ – anything but heat. He had been in the Common Room the night she had tested her variant of Babbling Beverage on Gudgeon and he had spent the evening singing dirty limericks until his voice ran out.

"Still only tea," she said, her blue eyes narrowing in amusement and her lips curving in a smile. "Come on then, love, out with it, you'll feel better," she added, and Alice made a vague noise in the back of her throat.

"Just – didn't work," Remus said, softly, and looked down at the table, at the tiny rubies and pieces of amber in the ring on her finger, glimmering faintly in the firelight, at the rough-edged cornhusks, and then he felt her shift on the bench next to him, and there was an arm around his back, and she was pulling him close, and he couldn't breathe –

\-- and then the back door banged open, and Sirius was standing next to the table, shirtless, sweaty, his arms and fingers speckled with something black and sticky-looking. His hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail and there were two bright spots of colour on his cheeks. Before any of them could say anything he lunged forward and grabbed Remus by his other wrist and hauled him up, away from Soleil, his grip firm, but not rough.

"Sirius –" Alice began, standing up, but Sirius ignored her, and Remus heard Soleil shushing her as he was dragged from the room, through the close and up the stairs to the Potters' second best bedroom. 

"Sit down," Sirius said, gesturing at the (unmade) bed, and yanked the wardrobe open. Remus checked for dead mice and sat, his heart hammering in his chest. 

"Sirius," Remus began, "you could've just – just said," he managed, all his prepared words slipping away. "Look, I know you're going to – to chuck me," he said, and coughed to clear his throat. "James –"

"I am not chucking you, you great numpty," Sirius snarled, and turned around, clutching a bulging pillowcase to his chest.

"But, the girl, James said – you were – sending her things –" Remus said, clenching his fingers in Sirius' sheets. At that Sirius moved forward and upended the pillowcase into his lap, and then knelt on the floor beside the bed. 

"What --?" Remus managed, looking at the assortment of paper-wrapped and heavily taped objects in his lap. They bore his name and series of addresses, and several bright red and vaguely bureauocratic looking stamps. Sirius picked up one of them and ripped it open, revealing two tiny leather bound books.

" _How to Recognize a Nosferatu_ , by Herr Hammer Schlemmer, volumes one and two," Sirius said, handing them to him, "which I found in a book shop in Bucharest and _attempted_ to send to you in Outer Mongolia, only they apparently can't read German at the Chinese Ministry, and so they sent it back to me with a note stating that capitalist propaganda couldn't be delivered," he added, and picked up another package. Remus opened the book, his hands shaking, and read the first few lines of heavy black text. _Not a girl_ , he thought, _me. James was wrong, it was me._

"These," Sirius continued, nudging his knee to get his attention, "are odd little Bulgarian sweets, made with honey, which I bought in Sofia and tried to send to you in Moscow, but whoever handles the post there didn't like how they tasted I suppose – they ate one, I could tell – so they got sent back to me as well, with a note indicating that foreign food was forbidden."

"Oh," Remus managed, and then caught Sirius' hand as he reached for another package, as much to get Sirius' attention as to steady himself. "But – you really – fancy – me?" he added, barely able to say the words, and Sirius went very still, and looked down at his lap. 

"Yes, Moony," he said, after a minute, softly but firmly, his chin coming up at a familiar defiant angle, though Remus could see his other hand was clenched tight in his lap. "And I'm not going to chuck you, I mean, unless –" he began, and then dropped his eyes, "unless –"

"No, Sirius," Remus managed, and then either he fell off the bed or Sirius pulled him, he really wasn't sure. but in any case they ended up in a messy heap on the floor, all arms and legs and scratchy brown paper, and Remus realized he was laughing a little hysterically and couldn't stop, and then that Sirius was holding him tight against his chest (and getting tar all over him), rocking him back and forth, his mouth pressed against the side of Remus' neck, and then his mouth. They kissed for a while, slowly and carefully, until Remus' stomach growled, loudly, and Sirius started laughing. They broke apart and one of them opened the Bulgarian sweets, and when Sirius pushed one into his mouth Remus was sure he had never tasted anything more delicious. 

"Sirius," he said, after a minute, reluctantly sliding away to lean against the bed, "the bit about – it being awkward, and upsetting, what did James – actually say? About that?" 

"Mm, as long as it wasn't a Slytherin, that we'd, you know, sort it out," Sirius said, squeezing his calf with one hand, picking up one of the paper-wrapped packages with the other.

"Actually," James said, from the doorway, and they both jumped, "I said, so long as it wasn't _Evans_ or a Slytherin, it would be fine. Now –" he paused, and looked at them, his shoulders stiff, Remus felt as if he had been drenched in cold water. He felt the hand on his calf squeeze him again, but he didn't dare actually look at Sirius. _How much of that did you hear? Or see?_ he thought at James, and braced himself for the shouting. "Do I have to punch anyone in the face?" James continued, in a surprisingly calm tone, and Remus saw Sirius shake his head. James turned and looked at him, his lips pressed firmly together.

"No, James," Remus said, and saw his shoulders relax. James ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head as if trying to dislodge something.

"Good, because it's time for the feast – see you outside, yeah?" he said, after a minute, and disappeared in a swirl of robes.

**

 _Not chucked_ , Remus thought, watching Sirius shimmy into a clean set of robes, and nibbling on sweets. He felt dizzy again, and a little guilty that he had been so horrible to Sirius all day, though he did feel that was mostly not his fault.

"C'mon, Moony," Sirius said, shaking his hair loose, and then they were off again, down the stairs and out the back door and into the garden, and into the swirl of people. Sirius put a hand back and Remus took it, allowing himself to be led through the crowd to the stretch of fence where James was waiting with roast beef sandwiches, tall, cool glasses of pumpkin juice, and a basket of gingerbread men. He settled himself against the broad beams and watched as Mr. Potter lit the rows of corded wood on fire and Alice and Soleil walked barefoot between them wearing simple white robes and paused in front of the gate.

"You come freely?" Mr. Potter said, his _Sonorous_ -enhanced voice rippling across the garden, and the girls said something Remus couldn't hear. There was a pause as Mr. Potter cut two holes in the gate with his wand, and then Remus saw a shape move in the dimness and two more rows of corded wood flared up, illuminating a path up the hill. Alice and Soleil knelt down, ducking their heads, and then Remus saw Frank Longbottom and Lionel Lovegood walk down the path, dressed in formal robes, and come to a halt at the other side of the gate.

"You also come freely?" Mr. Potter asked.

"I do, sir," they said, in unison, and then they too knelt down, their heads disappearing behind the gate. Mr. Potter rummaged in the pockets of his robes for a moment and pulled out two small loaves of bread, and handed one to Alice and one to Soleil, who both carefully broke them in half before sliding one of their hands through the hole in the gate.

Remus took a drink of pumpkin juice and edged closer to Sirius, and then Mr. Potter raised his wand again and began to chant in Latin, until the gate was bathed in sparkling pink light.

" _Adiunctum circa unus anno et diem_ ," Mr. Potter said, and with a flick of his wand the pink light disappeared, along with the gate, and the couples stood up, hands clasped together around the bread. James made a startled noise and held out the basket of gingerbread men, motioning for all four of them to take one.

"Here, like this," Sirius whispered in his ear, and broke both of their gingerbread men into four pieces. He took an arm from Remus, and then handed one back to him, before passing another to James, giving the feet to Peter, and poping the head into his mouth. 

"May you never go hungry," Soleil shouted, letting go of Lionel, and then she and Alice tossed the other halves their loaves up in the air and sent them hurtling towards the crowd with a flick of their wands.

"May your harvest be fruitful," the crowd roared back, and pelted them with bits of gingerbread. Soleil put her hands up in mock-defense, and then hitched her robe up and took off running up the path, the others hard on her heels. There was a pause, and then the crowd surged forward, whooping and hollering, and Remus found himself going with them, somehow holding Sirius' hand again, all the way to the top of the hill.

" _Wingardium liviosa_ ," Longbottom and Lovegood roared, and Remus saw an enormous, tar covered wooden wheel float upwards.

" _Incendio!_ " Alice and Soleil bellowed, and the wheel burst into flames. It hung in the sky for a few moments – long enough for the crowd to edge backwards – and then dropped to earth, where a flick of Longbottom's wand sent it rolling down the hill and into the duckpond, where it landed with a steamy splash.

"Well done, Longbottom," James said, and led them back down the hill to dance around the fire.


End file.
